“In the eyes of the king, I am a thief, a murderer, and a traitor,” he said. “An outlawed laird. I have nothing to offer a woman of your ilk.”
“Except the odd night of pleasure.”
“Aye,” he agreed. “Save for that.”
She nodded sharply. “We are clear now.” Turning on her heel, she headed for the door. “Come, Gorm.”
The dog, it seemed, had other ideas. It remained precisely where it was, seated at Aiden’s feet, staring at him with unwavering eyes. Aware that Isabail sought to leave the room with an angry flounce, he nudged the dog with his foot. But the beast wouldn’t budge.
Isabail reached the door, and upon realizing the dog was not at her side, turned. “Gorm, come!”
The dog’s gaze did not flicker.
Isabail stomped across the room with very unladylike expression and grabbed the hound’s scruff. Then she pulled him toward the door. The beast was large enough to resist her tug, but it did not. It finally broke off its uncanny stare and trotted alongside Isabail to the door.
When they were gone and silence descended on the room, Aiden dropped back onto the mattress and raked his fingers through his hair.
Well, that had definitely not gone according to plan.
* * *
Isabail walked the deerhound around the perimeter of the hill fort twice. The brisk chill of the morning helped to cool her thoughts. It annoyed her that she had indeed developed expectations for how her future might roll out, especially as those expectations were apparently closely aligned to the suggestion Lady Elisaid had made when she first arrived.
She had avoided MacCurran’s mother quite successfully over the past week, but she had not managed to avoid the promise in her words.
What had she been thinking? Daring to dream of a more permanent arrangement with the MacCurran was a foolish mistake. Her original plan had been to seek an audience with the king and convince him to give her Dunstoras in recompense for her brother’s death. As part of that plan, she’d intended to offer herself in marriage to a man of the king’s choosing, so that he might use the land to forge an alliance, as well. It had been such a straightforward and reasonable plan.
Until she’d given her heart to a rogue.
Damn him. Why could he not have remained a villain in her thoughts? A brutal fiend, like her father? Her life would have been so much simpler. Instead she’d come to see him as honorable and valiant—the consummate defender of his kith and kin.
Isabail nodded to the two men guarding the entrance to the inner close and strode toward the hut used by Daniel. She swept aside the fur door panel. Gorm growled low in his throat and balked at entering. She shook her finger at him. “Fine, then. Stay outside.”
Daniel was standing before the brazier, holding his hands to the heat. He turned as she entered and then crumpled with a wince. Falling to one knee, he groaned. “Damn this blasted leg.”
Isabail scurried to his side and helped him to his feet. He leaned heavily on her as she guided him back to the mattress. “You are attempting too much, too fast.”
Settling himself with his back to the wall, he shook his head. “I hate being an invalid. You are without a champion in this nest of vipers. I should be at your side, not lying about in bed.”
“Do not overtax yourself on my account. I am fine.” A wee lie, but the truth would not help Daniel. “Give yourself the proper time to heal, and you’ll be up and about in a few days. Stress the wounds unduly and you may find yourself a permanent lame-leg.”
He grimaced. “Not a fate I desire.”
“Then take your rest.” She glanced around. “Where is Muirne?”
“Fetching some food to break the fast.”
Isabail made a quick check of his bandaged wounds. None were seeping. The injuries were knitting, which was good, but Daniel’s face showed signs of strain—dark circles beneath his eyes and a glitter in his eyes that she normally associated with fever. But his face was pale, not rosy-cheeked.
She put a hand on his forehead. Cool, not hot. No fever.
“Have you slept well?”
“Nay,” he said, adjusting his hip on the bed. “I cannot stop thinking about the necklace. I know it’s here. I must find it.”
“I’ve looked many places,” she told him. “The necklace is not here. Daniel, it’s possible that MacCurran does not have it.”
“He has it,” Daniel insisted.
